


propriety

by onlyeverthus



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 07:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5907349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyeverthus/pseuds/onlyeverthus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've never really been the type to conform to society's rules.</p>
            </blockquote>





	propriety

She suggested they check into a hotel and when he asked her why, she said something about needing to play the part and they couldn't exactly use the TARDIS as an address to call upon, now could they?

He got two rooms and when she asked him why, he said something about propriety. She muttered something about his never needing to sleep and that they couldn't really afford to get _two_ rooms but was silenced when he pulled out the psychic paper. Obviously.

They return to the hotel after the party and she feels dirty after an evening of playing along as someone else's date and he is sullen and melancholy behind her. She can feel his eyes burning into her neck and she suddenly wishes that _he_ would put his fingerprints all over her skin, erase those of the stranger, make her his own.

She turns to him, mouth open to speak, but he is gone, having disappeared into his own room and she sighs, pulling her key from her purse.

It is later that there is a knock on her door and she sleepily turns the lamp on, fumbling for her robe. She opens the door and he is there and she has a moment to think of her mussed hair and sleep breath before he grabs her, pressing his lips against hers in a kiss that just about sets her on fire, his fingers tangling in her hair. They stumble back to the bed, leaving a trail of shed clothes in their wake and tumble onto the soft mattress. He brands her with his kisses, over her breasts, making a trail down her stomach until his tongue darts into her folds, tasting her warm wetness and smiling as she gasps and shivers underneath him.

She pulls him up and tastes herself on his lips and it is both strange and exhilarating at the same time and she wants him so bad. He obliges and slides easily inside and she locks around him, like they were designed for each other, like a key finding its lock after years of being lost.

As they lie together later, sated and floating in that hazy region between sleep and wakefulness, he wonders why he got two rooms. Something about propriety.

Propriety be damned.


End file.
